


Cross-dressing

by spinmetal



Series: Kinktober 2018 [9]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Cayde-6 Down Killed By: Zavala's Disapproval, F/M, M/M, Other, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 12:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16326293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinmetal/pseuds/spinmetal
Summary: In which Cayde-6 looses a bet and his fireteam pretends all is good and well with the world as he gets fondled by any and every Guardian that comes to the Tower. Day 11 of Kinktober.





	Cross-dressing

**Author's Note:**

> Just because Cayde thinks his fireteam doesn't notice Guardian bullshit doesn't mean they don't actually notice Guardian bullshit. Especially when Hunters are concerned.

If Cayde had 1 Glimmer for every time someone’s done a double take looking at him, he’d probably be able to pay off all his debts. Most of his debts. At least half of them. Point is, he lost a bet and now he’s stuck wearing the shortest dress he’s ever seen on his shift. His day shift. In the Vanguard Hall. Which means his fireteam has seen him in a slutty dress. Which means everyone has seen him in a slutty dress.

It’s not as bad as he thought it would be. On one hand, yeah, slutty dress that just barely covers the curve of his ass. But on the other hand, he gets to watch Guardians tripping up and down the stairs and over their own feet as their eyes rove over his exposed thighs, dipping to his chest with the low neck of the dress. He gets to see his Hunter’s gazing at him with hungry eyes, pupils blown so wide their iris is thin as a thread, gets to feel clever hands ghosting down his back, fondling his ass and cupping his mons and _wow_ –

Arc Light sparks from a Stormcaller's questing fingers and Cayde has to cut power to his voice box to silence what would have been a very telling moan as he rolls his hips against their hand. They give his mons a gentle squeeze, trailing Arc down his thigh before wrapping up their business and taking their leave, casting him a mournful look.

 _Yeah, me too buddy,_ Cayde thinks miserably, trying his damn best to not hump the table in front of his fireteam, even if he’s been publicly fondled in front of them by Guardians of all sorts since the start of his shift. Not they’re aware, though maybe Ikora is, being a Warlock and well, _Ikora_ , even if she hasn’t said anything about it. Yet.

Misery turns to pleasure as Light trails across his mons once again and _oh shit_ –

He plants his hands on the table, splaying his fingers wide so he doesn’t risk cracking wood in his grip. Flickering blue eyes sneak a peak under the table and land on a faint purple shimmer. If he weren’t a Hunter, he’d never have picked it up, would probably have chalked up the fondling of his mons to a ghost, a Ghost or Warlock bullshit. But he’s a Hunter and the tell tale shimmer of void cloaking is all the warning he gets before the Nightstalker’s mouth is on him, hot and wet and insistent, nipping and sucking his mons like it’s dessert.

Cayde’s thighs tremble with the effort it takes to stay upright, trying to not make the roll of his hips obvious enough to be noticed. The Nightstalker pulses Light and Cayde’s vision goes black, mouth parting in a silenced moan as he comes. He turns the motion into a drawn out yawn, rather characteristic of him, especially on his shift, sneaking a hand under the table to stroke his Hunter’s head in gratitude. Orange flashes in his throat when lips press against his palm and he pets the Nightstalker once more before drawing his hand back.

One thing’s for certain: this is turning out to be the best bet Cayde’s ever lost.


End file.
